


Time Changes People

by SabineElectricHeart (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Loneliness, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29643390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/SabineElectricHeart
Summary: Years after the war, Sylvain is a shadow of his former self. He anticipates and dreads any opportunity to face how much he has changed.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Mercedes von Martritz, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 7





	Time Changes People

When Edelgard promised a brand, new world, Sylvain did not actually believe in her. He did not think she would be capable of bringing about the change she promised, he did not think she was strong enough to fight a thousand-year-old institution and come out the other side victorious.

Alas, he followed the Crimson Flower, not because he actually believed they would end up victorious, not because the Empire aligned itself to whatever were his own goals and beliefs, whatever they were, not because his professor asked him nicely. No, none of that. It was because he could not bear living on the old world any more, and it was better to die trying to change it than to live a long life doing the same suffocating, soul-crushing routine, spawn a child with a damn Crest and pack up to the Blue Sea Star or whatever.

However, they did not die, Edelgard did manage to topple the Church and unify their continent, and their new world was brought about to existence in some shape or form. Pity he still feels suffocated.

Sylvain, the new Margrave Gautier in all but name, as titles of nobility were ostensively abolished, was never the same after the war. He was closed off, kept to himself, and never uttered a word unless he was spoken to. He was well-recognised when he chose to go outside - he had to fight his emotions when he heard the foul comments being fired at him from every which direction.

He barely kept in contact with anyone from his Garreg Mach years, not that they would want to be seen talking to him now. Those who survived, did so in spite of him, and not thanks to him.

_Oh, how times had changed._

The only letters he receives these times were from Mercedes, who opened an orphanage in Arianrhod and sends him a monthly update of her life and her wards. He never responds, but often sends generous donations and gifts on her birthday and Saints’ days, which she never fails to thank him for.

Sylvain looks back in suspicion on all the times where people would clamour for his attention. It was strange now, being an outcast, shunned by the rest of the world and shun it in turn. Now, he spent his days riding through the border with Sreng, patrolling against incursions from warring clans from the north. Weeks and weeks all alone out in the frontier, with only his horse and the stars to hear his confessions and regrets in life.

Once a Moon, he returned to his manor house to restock on essentials and to respond to any urgent correspondence from the Empire. This time, his retainer ran to meet him on the gates, informing him that the Imperial Constabulary had been waiting for him at the home for over three days.

They had sent word from Enbarr, of course, but the letter arrived after he left last Moon, with an estimated time of arrival for the party before he would return. The man had assigned a few knights to locate him and bring him back so he could honour the August guests, but since he hardly kept a consistent track through the mountainous path, they came up empty-handed.

Sylvain, then, left the retainer alone on the grounds and rushed inside as he had never done before, eager to meet the one who waited so many days for him. He walked upstairs two steps at a time and rushed through the hallway to the sitting room, from where the smell of bergamot whiffed softly and weighed on the cold air of the house.

As he reaches the doorstep, however, he pauses. He knew why she came. As Imperial Constabular, her duty was to verify whether the Relics were being kept safely or used wisely and whether Crests were still being passed through the generations.

It was not a social call, but, even if he knew that, if he went in, she would probably shun him as well, he thought it would be worth it, just to see her ethereal green eyes and gorgeous half-lidded smile.

Gathering courage, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“You certainly kept me waiting.” A soft voice resounded through the cold silence.

His heart beat faster in his chest as he looked towards where the voice came from. Byleth Eisner sat cross-legged by the tea table and a steaming cup by her lips. His breath caught in his mouth.

She is just as stunning as she always was.

“Sylvain?” Byleth called after him, as he never responded her greeting. “It is nice to see you again.”

“You too.” The nobleman managed to get out as his eyes rested on her slender, youthful figure.

“There is something about you that is different.” The constabular commented, placing her soft hands on his face, just like she did when she “woke up” after the Millennium Festival.

“It’s been years. I am bound to have changed.” Sylvain said, looking away.

Byleth had not changed a bit ever since she slayed the archbishop. Her skin was still fair, her hair was still spiky and her demeanour, while still detached, sounded kind and were able to warm his long-dead heart. In comparison, he must look like a hot mess, as his beauty and charm long faded away.

“What happened to you, Sylvain?” She whispered. “You do not look like yourself.”

Of course, Byleth knew about his struggle between two sides of the war, and that he felt deeply disappointed by what he got out of it, but after so many years apart, she did not think it would ever be able to affect him this much. She did not think the darkness that lurked within him would be able to take over his entire existence.

“Time changes people.” Sylvain stated as he headed for the door, hoping to leave the room, to save whatever dignity he had left. He paused, turning around. “I’m sorry, professor.”


End file.
